Prelude 2: Southern Star
by Ellislash
Summary: Ellis' Prelude: How did the survivors get Left 4 Dead in the first place? Coarse language, violence. I don't own anything Valve does.


"So go after her, man! What've ya got ta lose?"

"Y'all, f'r one. Unless yer plannin' ta hoof it with me ta Kansas."

"Naw, y'all gonna come back. How couldja stay away from alla this?"

Flickering light slid along dozens of brown glass bottles littering the clearing. Under the Savannah stars, two very drunk young men lay sprawled by their campfire. One smiled at the sky; the other held the heat of the coals in his eyes. Nearby on the forest trail sat a rusty blue pickup truck, bed full of hunting gear and much less beer than had been there originally. The soft noise of running water betrayed the presence of a stream nearby.

Ellis dropped his gaze from Orion to Keith, gesturing broadly in the air. "We got it all set, right here, an' y'can go git yer girl an' bring 'er back, an' it'll be awesome, only y'gotta quit getting' hurt so bad or she'll leave ya agin."

His best friend didn't look up from the flames. "Guess so. I jus' dunno... Feels like this town ain't gonna stay the same much longer, y'know? I got no family 'cept you, since Dave went off ta Texas or whatever... Y'all're the only thing keepin' me here."

Ellis looked at Keith from the ground. He was sideways, and his red-brown hair seemed to be everywhere. It was dizzifyin'.

"Ain't nothin' gonna keep us apart f'r long, y'know that," he said seriously, trying to focus better on Keith's scruffy face. "We're brothers. Dave's still our brother too. We got phones f'r that, y'idjit."

The lovesick young man rolled over to watch the sky, but didn't answer. Ellis fought the alcohol in his blood to come up with something important to say.

"Lissen... Keith, lissen t'me. You lissnin'? You gotta go after her. Me'n'Dave, we're always gonna be yer family. If it don't work out with Lisa, we're still gonna be here for ya. But... but what if she might work, after all, an' you didn't go for it? Like I said. Nothin' ta lose by tryin'." He closed his eyes, exhausted by the effort of making sense. He didn't see the starlight in Keith's dark eyes go all wibbly-wobbly and run down his cheek.

"Yer right," Keith whispered. He wiped at his face and left a clean streak showing through all the dirt. "I gotta try, don't I? Nothin' ta lose..."

Ellis, eyes closed, didn't see the movement in time to react. The air went out of his lungs as Keith threw himself down on his chest, hugging fiercely.

"_Oof!_ Hey, c'mon now, I kinda like my ribs..."

"Shut up, Ellis," his brother choked, tears now flowing freely. "I love you, man. Don't you ever forget me." With a last squeeze Keith stood up, wobbling a bit, and started to walk to the truck. Ellis propped himself up on his elbows and stared.

"Where ya goin'? Wait, Keith! What're you doin'?" He couldn't quite stand up; the trees were moving too much. Just before the old Chevy's engine roared to life he used his last moment of consciousness to call out, hoping that Keith would hear.

"I... I love you too! An' don't... don't forget me, neither!"

* * *

><p><em>Uuhhnngg...<em>

Ashes had blown over him in the night, worked their way into his jeans, and stuck. His head was past pounding, choosing instead to burn like acid in his eyes. Ellis kept them screwed shut against the light, finding his way to the stream by its impossibly loud noise. Somehow he managed not to run into anything; but since he was crawling, he wouldn't have fallen very far anyway.

The tepid water helped wake him a little, more so when he drank it than when he stuck his face in. He felt disgusting, so when he'd chugged about half the stream he stripped naked and took a bath in the other half. Nobody would come this way; the three of them had cleared the trail themselves, and kept it a secret.

_Three.__ Me, __Dave, __and __Keith... __Keith, __fuck, __where's __Keith?_

Blinking painfully, Ellis collected his clothes and returned to the campsite. There was the big old bag of grub, and Ellis' backpack with his work clothes and tools in it, and about a million empty bottles of beer... _Oh_. The truck was gone, and so was Keith.

Ellis started to put his pants back on, but realized that they were in awful shape even by _his_ standards. They were covered in ash, somehow he'd managed to rip the left leg from knee to ankle, and little bugs had gotten in during his bath. He stared at them for a moment, then opened his backpack instead.

As he pulled his favorite shirt over his head, he dredged up the memories from yesterday. They'd caught a fox (_Oh __yeah, __that's __how__ my __jeans __got__ tore,_ he remembered) and tried to make it catch rabbits for them, but it hadn't worked, so they'd caught a rabbit themselves and ate it with chips and trail mix... Then they'd started drinking, and things got hazier... Ellis rubbed his face, trying to recall the conversation. The shop; something wacky with a tractor engine and two dozen flyswatters; girls.

_Lisa,_ his uncooperative brain finally volunteered. _He__ went __ta __Kansas. __That's __okay, __I __guess.__ That's __fine._ Worries about the dangers of drunk driving never crossed his mind. Keith knew how to operate a vehicle, sober or not; he was probably two hundred miles away by now.

Reassured, Ellis ate some trail mix and beef jerky from their bag. The protein made him feel okay enough to start heading home, and since he was an extremely tough drinker his headache was receding anyway. He shoved all the bottles into a loose pile and hefted both packs. Before he turned to go he noticed something blue and white on the ground, and bent to pick it up. It was Keith's favorite hat, the one with the tow truck on it. _Oh__ man,__ he's __gonna __be __pissed__ when __he __figures __out __he __forgot __it,_ Ellis thought with amusement, and put it on. It fit perfectly, and he smiled. _Finder's __keepers._

Without the truck it took all day to get home. Ellis would have been happy to add another week to the camping trip, save for the fact that he only had a small bag of food and Keith had taken the guns. _He'd__ better __have __left __my __rifle __at __my__ place,__ or __I'll __shoot__' im__ with__ it,_ the mechanic grumbled, and pressed on through the woods. He returned to the outskirts of town whistling tunelessly, but his outdoorsy good mood faded quickly. _Somethin'__ ain't __right._

Even before he could see the emptiness of the neighborhood, he smelled it. Unfiltered by trees, the air was somehow sticky and rotten-sweet. Ellis' survival instincts kicked in and he stepped as lightly as his big black steel-toed boots would allow, creeping down the silent dirt road as the sun began to set. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. _This__ is __wrong. __Where __is __ev'ryone?__ Why's __it __smell __like... __like __expired __milk __an' __port-a-johns?_ His heart clenched painfully as he approached his own house, lights off, car gone, door locked. He dug his key from his coveralls and turned it with shaking fingers.

In the last red-gold rays of the sun he saw a piece of paper propped up on the kitchen table. It was covered in his mother's blocky writing. The lights wouldn't turn on, so Ellis grabbed the flashlight from under the sink before it got too dark to read.

_Ellis,_

_ You and Keith have been gone and I don't know when you will be back. There's a disease now that makes people go crazy, and try to eat you like those zombie movies you like so much? They call it the Green Flu. We have to leave. If you get this note in time, call me, and go to the hotel downtown. They're flying people to safety. I love you, baby. Find me in New Orleans._

_ Mom_

He went through it three times before the gist of it registered, and Ellis felt guilt tighten his throat. Something terrible had happened while he'd been gone, and this made it his fault if his mother wasn't safe... _God__damnit!_

He slammed his fist down on the table hard enough to shake the floorboards. Night was starting to fall, and he couldn't go anywhere at night if zombies had suddenly become real. Not alone. _First __light,_ he decided. _Whoever __'they' __are __who's __flyin' __folks __out, __I'm__ gonna__ find__' em. __Gotta __believe __she's __fine, __she's __in __New__ Orleans,__ an' __don't __think __'bout __it __no __more.__ Don't!_ Ellis' chronic optimism and overactive imagination joined forces to become a powerful coping mechanism. Anytime something bad happened, he just _knew_ things'd turn out okay, and they almost always did. Nobody could convince him that his make-believe was anything but God's own truth, and so far it had seen him through. Now, crushing the paper in his hand, he immersed himself in the world of his favorite horror films.

"Kill all sons a'bitches," he whispered, and grinned like a wolf.

* * *

><p>In the morning he set out with the combat rifle his soldier uncle had given him (Keith had not returned the hunting rifle from the truck), a bag full of snacks, a bottle of water, his utility knife, a lighter, and two hastily constructed Molotov cocktails. There was no cell service, so he left his phone at home. His work coveralls had the most pockets, so he kept them on, along with his favorite shirt and Keith's hat. He debated about bringing his notebook (God help the man who dared call it a 'diary') but decided that nothing in it was all that important, actually. Thus equipped, he started jogging downtown.<p>

_Zombies. __Not __actual-like, __if __they're__ not __made __from__ black__ magic, __but __close __enough? _He reviewed his film collection in his head, and decided that if it was called Green Flu then the infection-types from _Zombieland_ were probably the best place to start. _Gotta __assume __they __can __run,__ an'__ lights __an'__ noise__ make __'em__ angry. __Dunno __how __ya __catch __it,__ though...__ Let's__ go __with__ bites. __Bites __I__ can __handle. __If __this __shit's __airborne __I'm __dead __already. __And __aim __for __the __head. __Duh._

Quiet and determined, Ellis made good time in getting from the suburbs to the inner city. The farther he went, the worse the buildings looked. They were boarded up and broken into, and some had burned down. When he started to see bodies in the street, he slowed down, a little shocked at how closely the situation was matching his fantasy. He muttered a prayer for the dead and moved on.

The hotel was fifteen blocks away on the right when he heard the helicopter. It was coming from the roof of the tower, where he could actually see three of them, but one took off as he watched and came swooping down towards him.

"Hey! Over here! Help!" He snatched off his hat and waved it around, hollering, hoping to catch the pilot's attention. To his dismay the little news chopper didn't land, instead lifting a little higher and flying away. Ellis frowned and put his hat back on. "That ain't very much like a rescue."

As he started walking again the blood froze in his veins. All around, corpses were rising and starting to growl, or squeal, or gasp. _Holy__ shit,__ the__ noise. __I'm__ a __dumbass._ The zombies started towards him, some stumbling and some beginning to run. _Oh__ god, __here__ we__ go!_

"YAAAAAAAAA!" He roared over the sharp triple _bang_s of his rifle, taking out the closest handful of zombies and a few others as they emerged from the shadows. In the breathing space he lit one of his fire bombs and threw it back the way he'd come, to cover his ass. Suddenly, as he reached in his pocket for a new magazine, he was jerked backwards violently - one of the things had grabbed his backpack and was pulling him in for the kill. Ellis reacted faster than he'd ever done before, managing to drop the ammo, let go of his gun for a split second, and slip out of the pack. Snatching the rifle from the air, he swung the butt of it straight into the zombie's face. The wet _snap_ made the creature fall to the ground.

Ellis ran with adrenaline sparking in his blood, firing at every moving thing in front of him until he ran out of ammo. He tossed the gun aside and tried to throw his second grenade, but couldn't light it. He dropped it instead and kept going, whooping with excitement. He was in a movie! This was so cool!

Unnatural noise built behind him and he knew the zombies were, in fact, the fast kind. His body exalted the sheer primal force of running, muscles working joyfully, and he didn't mind the zombie apocalypse at all because he was so fucking _alive!_ He yelled and laughed aloud with the thrill of it.

"You... are a fucking... idiot..." came a voice from the left. Ellis saw a dark-haired man in a white suit running next to him, and laughed again. He wasn't alone!

"Nice ta meetcha, mister!"

The hotel was only a block away now, and as they approached he saw two more people just inside. When he skidded to a halt in the lobby they slammed the door behind him. One was a pretty woman a bit older than him, and the other was a heavyset man a _lot_ older than him. At that moment they both looked like gods. He grinned widely at them.

"Well all right! Let's git ta them whirlybirds!" _No__ way __the__ elevator's __gonna__ work. __Stairs __it __is!_ He practically skipped to the emergency door. The fancy guy muttered something behind him, but all three people followed.

Survival high kept Ellis bouncing up the steps for many flights. The lady kept up with him pretty well, but the two older guys were slower.

"Who the hell... puts an evac station... up thirty flights a' god-damned stairs?" panted the bald one, falling behind.

"C'mon, coach," replied the one in the suit. "Maybe the helicopter... maybe it's made of chocolate!" Ellis nearly laughed again. The older guy was wearing a team jersey of some kind. He could definitely be some kind of coach.

A minute later he realized that he and the lady were way ahead of the other two, and touched her gently on the arm.

"Hey, maybe we oughta wait for them," he suggested, pausing on a landing. His companion smiled down the stairwell, then looked out the narrow window overlooking the city. Ellis looked, too, and saw something that hadn't been in any of his movies.

"Ho-lee shit..." he whispered as a massive, ugly monster threw a car - a whole car! - straight into the chopper that had passed him by earlier. The crash was incredible, and shook the hotel from its foundations.

"Oh god, NO! No, no, no, JAKE!" the lady screamed, pressing herself up against the window with a face like... well, like somebody had died. The last traces of excitement vanished from Ellis' mind as he watched her claw at the glass. He heard the other two approaching from below just as a bright orange bloom grew out from the crash site. _Oh __shit. __Now__ we're __gonna__ burn_ and _get __tore __to __dog __food__ if __we __don't __get __outa __here._

"C'mon, the evac... it's waiting..." panted the grouchy suit guy as he climbed past. Ellis grabbed the mourning woman's arm and started to pull her from the awful sight.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we gotta move!" She only resisted for a moment, then started flying up the stairs even faster than he did.

They stormed out the door together, onto an empty roof. Ellis couldn't believe it. This wasn't how it went.

"This is not happening... this is not happening... this is not happening..." Apparently the lady couldn't believe it either.

"_Hellooo_!" called Ellis as the older survivors emerged from inside. _No __way __in __hell __they__ jus' __left... __They __can't __have..._ "Anyone here?"

The bald one, the coach, stared into the distance. Ellis followed his eyes and saw the helicopters, just leaving. Leaving for New Orleans.

"Aren't they supposed to be savin' our asses?" the coach asked angrily. The suit guy stopped panting for a moment, and Ellis heard his voice behind him like a cell door clanging shut. They were doomed.

"Looks like there's been a change of plans."


End file.
